Eyes that don't See
by SapphiR3
Summary: Even though i couldn't see... when he spoke of stars, i could see them through the never ending darkness, i felt like i was seeing these things through him-rinxlen noncest


**Hi there, just a random story I suddenly thought of and was itching to write. Some people probably want to kill me for not updating the other one yet. But all in good time, all in good time. XD **

**Rin and Len in this story are OOC, forgive me~**

**Anyhow, this story will always be in someone's POV, because writing in the normal POV is a pain.**

**Disclaimer: I'm not even Japanese.**

**Start~**

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Rin's POV:

The air was humid today, a sure sign of rain later. I sighed, that meant I couldn't earn any money with my singing today. I could hear the constant chatter of people passing by me, also sensing the coming storm and hurrying home to shelter. I, as always was a little envious, their homes would have open arms to greet them, happy faces and welcoming voices.

I sighed again; the term "home" did not apply to me. It was simply an old abandoned shed on the outskirts of the small town. And from the voices and gossips I heard regularly around town, I was known as a "beggar girl". This distinction had never occurred to me, as I had never once begged—in the sense of the word. Every morsel of food I bought, every piece of cloth, it was paid by endless days of singing in the streets. Perhaps it was because of my appearance, but I could hardly help that.

I could not see. My eyes were open, but they weren't seeing anything. I did not know what colour was, what they meant when they described the sky as "blue", and the sun was "yellow". The only colour I knew was black, because it was described as endless nothing, darkness—only darkness. It was a description that fitted my sight perfectly.

I knew what "clean" was. I bathed myself regularly in the river nearby at night, but I did not know how my hair looked like, whether or not my clothes had holes in them, or even whether or not I wore them the right way.

When someone in the street laughed at me, I was not offended, simply curious. Did I say something odd? Was there something peculiar on my face? Did my dress have a gaping hole in it? Those were questions that came to my mind regularly.

What did buildings look like? What was a rainbow? I heard people say it was a seven coloured strip, truly a sight to behold. I could not depend on anything except hearing and touch, and I made use of it to its full advantage.

I knew the town like the back of my hand. The alleys, the winding roads, every nook and cranny, I had spent years exploring—merely by sense of touch. I knew where to get the best fruits, I knew which places to avoid, and I knew where it was coolest on a hot day. I knew the town as if I built it myself.

Day and night meant little to me, the only difference in the two time periods was strictly warmer and colder. In my eyes, it would always be eternal night for me, so it didn't matter. I traveled the town at night like a cat, always knowing when to turn at the next intersection, knowing when to duck when there was a signboard hanging too low.

I always chose my venue of singing carefully. If there was a festival in the town square, that meant more aristocrats, rich people who were more willing to spend money. And I would set up my usual mat and coin case there. Some appreciated a good performance and gave more willingly; some just watched the performance without giving a dime. Normally it was a compilation of both kinds of people, and I knew that some only gave because they pitied me, and some snorted in disgust whenever they saw me, saying things like, "improper" and "how shameless". But I did not take offence; I was earning my living, just like everyone else was.

Today I would have to settle for a small piece of bread and water for dinner. My earnings from this morning would be just barely enough for even that. But I had gotten used to hunger pangs, they didn't bother me much anymore. Just the cold in winter, that was most unbearable, the shed was meager shelter; the cold wind blew through cracks and bit into my skin, like needles piercing it relentlessly, numbing it with pain. But despite it all, I stayed alive.

I wove my way around the crowds, getting shoved back once, probably earning myself a bruise. I could feel another push, I fell to the ground, gasping. That one had elbowed my ribs, and the pain was numbing. I just crawled to the side, resting myself for a moment, I didn't want to be caught in the rain either, and I knew it was around the corner.

"Do you need some help?" a concerned voice asked.

I started, this was odd. Rarely anyone bothered—or even cared—if a beggar girl fell flat on her face, it was a usual occurrence here, some even laughed. I lifted my head, in vain of course, it was still black.

I smiled at the voice, "thank you. But I'm alright."

There was silence, I almost laughed; another unwilling person tormented by guilt, feeling compelled to help me. How very nice. It was more than I could hope to expect, though. Kindness was rarely shown, I should be grateful.

A hand grasped mine, helping me to my feet. "I'm sorry, those people should be more careful, so uncivilized." The voice continued.

I was surprised—in a good way. "It's alright, I'm used to it, thank you for your trouble." I smiled hugely at the voice, the hand holding mine felt nice; it had been so long since someone had helped me, so long since I last laughed.

The hand gripped mine tighter, like wanting to protect me. Like I would fall down if it didn't, I judged the voice to be a young male. He cleared his throat, "You're welcome, what brings you in these parts?"

Another surprise, "I sing for a living." Simple and brief, he would be bored soon enough.

"Oh, when do you usually sing?" the voice sounded casual, carefully kept at the brink of polite interest, but I could hear the curiousity burning underneath.

"It depends from morning to evening if the weather is pleasant, normally at the town square." I elaborated, hoping maybe he would come, I didn't really mind if he didn't pay, I always liked to share it, the joy of song. And I wanted this person, who was kind enough to help me, to hear it.

"Then perhaps I'll see you there." A shock ran through my body as warm lips were pressed to the hand he was holding. I felt blood pool in my cheeks, what an odd sensation, so pleasant, yet—so warm.

"Oh…" I stuttered. As I could feel several gasps sounding behind us, I hurriedly pulled my hand from his. "You shouldn't do that you know, people will talk," I sighed internally; I didn't know what this person was about, I was happy, but even that couldn't last for long.

"Don't worry about it; sum it up to gallantry I suppose." Oh, he was referring to how he helped me, but I was talking about his kiss to my hand. The kind of thing was that old women loved to gossip about, it could tarnish his reputation.

I hurriedly thanked him again, and sprinted away. Still remembering the burning sensation his lips had left on my hand.

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**A/N: I had initially wanted to make this a one-shot. But the plot seemed like a good one to expand later. I will leave it up to you people. If you want, I can prolong the story, or I'll just end it the next chapter, with my original one-shot ending. Also I warn you people this will be much slower in updates compared with my other story.**

**I will decide using the number of reviews as votes. (if people actually bother)And if no one reviews, well (cry), I'll just go ahead and end it in the next chap.**

**Anyhow, please review with your opinion if you're interested. I loveeeee youuuu guuuyyysss….even if you just read this without reviewing ;D**


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